Birthday Cake
by Mrs Don Draper
Summary: Don and Peggy D/s for the episode "The Suitcase." Two alternate endings to one story.
1. Ending A

"Come here," he tells her.

His pants tighten as his eyes follow her from his position on the couch.

Don spreads his thighs and watches her take off her coat and hat and rest them on one of his chairs. She steps out of her heels as well. Her eyes never leave his. They're both watching each other to see who will snap first. She's mad and there's a fiery red blush to her pale cheeks. It is unbelievably cute. She waits.

Don pushes his hips up after undoing his belt and kicks off his pants and shoes. Peggy's been fierce all day. He likes it when a woman will fight.

"Get on your hands and knees," he orders.

She's disgusted.

"No."

He's angry.

"No?"

She ignores him. Peggy sits down to peel off her sheer stockings. Massages her feet after a long day in heels. She smiles like she doesn't even notice that he's sitting right there without any pants on. He's torn between wanting to slap her, wanting to force her to her knees in front of him, and wanting to get on his knees in front of her.

Peggy is so damn smug. That condescending grin on her face. She pulls her dress up over her knees, widens her own legs.

"Get on _your_ hands and knees," she instructs.

Her voice has dropped several levels. She knocks back a drink from his desk, red lipstick staining the cut glass.

He's so hot right now he doesn't even care. He crawls over to her, puts his hands on her knees and makes her birthday worthwhile after all. Peggy believes his apology from earlier. She throws her head back, hands fisted in his short black hair, eyes squeezed shut.

He pauses halfway through to breathe and she opens her eyes. He looks up at her, like he wants _her _approval. Don's eyes are glassy and slightly unfocused, pupils wide as he wonders what she'll do.

She runs a hand through his hair again.

"Well, you're not a birthday cake," she says breathily. "But you're just as good."

Her smirks and makes good on the compliment.


	2. Ending B

"Come here," he tells her.

His pants tighten as his eyes follow her from his position on the couch.

Don spreads his thighs and watches her take off her coat and hat and rest them on one of his chairs. She steps out of her heels as well. Her eyes never leave his. They're both watching each other to see who will snap first. She's mad and there's a fiery red blush to her pale cheeks. It is unbelievably cute. She waits.

Don pushes his hips up after undoing his belt and kicks off his pants and shoes. Peggy's been fierce all day. He likes it when a woman will fight.

"Get on your hands and knees," he orders.

She's disgusted.

"No."

He's angry.

"No?"

She ignores him. Peggy sits down to massage her feet after a long day in heels. She smiles like she doesn't even notice that he's sitting right there without any pants on. He's torn between wanting to slap her, wanting to force her to her knees in front of him, and wanting to get on his knees in front of her.

Then the Queen decides to speak after all.

"You heard me. _No_."

She secretly delights in being able to pick at him until he snaps. It's not as if he could do anything. She likes being the one in control for a change. Peggy crosses her arms. Don cannot believe her audacity. She's in her stockinged feet, arms akimbo, nose wrinkled like she's smelled something bad.

He jumps up from the couch and grabs her hair, pulling her downwards until she has to drop to the floor or risk losing a large quantity of hair. The breath is knocked out of her. He's out to teach a lesson. Tears of pain and shock prick the back of her eyes; she bites her lip to hold them back.

He leans in close to her ear.

"You don't want me as an enemy." A pause. Then, in a deadly whisper, "_Get_ on your hands and knees."

She releases a shaky breath and carefully puts her hands in front of her. Don lets go of her hair and moves back to get a better look at the Queen. She's shattered. Her mascara is running from the corners of her eyes, her glazed over eyes. Her unnaturally red lips are slightly open. Her dress is bunched up at the hips, revealing tan garters. Peggy is the perfect picture of imagining oneself away and...she's not the picture of sex Don thought she would be while he had been pitching a fit. He broke her.

The lines of tension in face melt and his shoulder relax; he unclenches his fists.

"Peggy..."

No response.

"Peggy?"

He reaches out a tentative hand. She flinches. Turns her head.

"What Don?"

He can't think of a damn thing to say that would even come close to fixing this.

"Peggy, you-you can...go. You're boyfriend..."

She nods emotionlessly.

"Yes Don."

He helps her up, and she puts her shoes, coat, and hat back on.

When she gets to the door, he dejectedly says, "Happy Birthday."

Another tear falls from her eye, and he wants to wipe it away.

She walks out and the moment is lost.


End file.
